Just Being Harry
by InnerDream
Summary: Voldemort decided to do more than just kill infant Harry Potter... A different boy enters Hogwarts. Climbing obstacles both foreign and familiar. Different friendships are formed, some not at all. Whether it was for better or worse, Harry was just being... Harry
1. Just Being A Wizard

The horrific sobbing of the red headed woman on the floor was akin to the euphonious melodies of a symphony. Her ragged gasping breaths played like Beethoven's 5th or Mozart's 40th, a most wonderus noise. Voldemort was content to submerse himself in the sounds of a women who had her spirit crushed.

No hateful words, no vile comebacks, the mudblood simply lay there. The spit fire known as Lily Potter was gone. In her place was a broken women bound by a simple _Petrificus Totalus,_ crying over the loss of her pathetic husband.

The fool had actually had the gall to point his wand at him. So the dark lord felt obliged to demonstrate exactly how he had gotten the title, which was why the blood traitor was currently decorating the kitchen…and dining room… and living room… it was truly amazing what a few cutting and exploding curses could do to a human body.

Voldemort could almost sigh in unabashed pleasure. Extinguishing life was one of his greatest enjoyments. For he who had transcended mortality, it only seemed right for him to become death personified.

And then there was the pleasure of crushing those who stood against him.

The couple had defied him three merlin damned times. Along with the Longbottom's they had been an annoying thorn in his side for way too long. So having Bella tasked with handling the other unsavory couple, the dark lord took it upon himself to end the Potter line once and for all. And he was doing a spectacular job of it, if he did say so himself.

He was broken from his self-congratulatory thoughts, by wailing. Wailing completely different than that of the witch of the floor. Wailing of a baby. Voldemort's smirk turned into a full out malicious grin.

"Ah yes, the Potter spawn" He drawled, voice oily, serpent like. His every intention creeping through.

The dark wizard actually took a step back in shock when, like someone adding tinder to a dying flame, The Potter skank actually sat up, a renewed fury behind those emerald green eyes.

"Don't you dare touch him, you bastard!" The bright witch spat, putting as much strength and contempt into it as physically possible. Her lips pulled back in a viscous snarl. Looking every bit, the witch who had proudly defied the most powerful dark wizard since Grindelwald.

Though momentarily surprised by her outburst and sudden mobility, a simple check proved that the spell was indeed still active. Annoyed at the suddenly willful witch, the death cheater decided he would do more than simply kill the boy.

A curious part of him had always wondered how an infant would react to some of his nastier curses. It had always been a somewhat coveted thought of his, if the raw unformed magic of a newborn would affect any of the dark arts. The implications of it sent thrilling chills down his back. If it bore any fruit, the dark lord could significantly cut down on the cost of creating a new horcrux. The last one had nearly left him bed ridden for a week. Fully intrigued with the concept, Voldemort's decision was made.

"Don't worry one pretty little red hair" He whispered, delighted in the shiver of revulsion that went through her. "What I have planned doesn't require any physical contact" Voldemort nearly buckled at the look of utter horror on her tear streaked face. After he was done with the child, there were a few carnal desires Voldemort could use the mudblood to satisfy. Licking his lips at the thought, the red eyed wizard decided on the easiest method of testing his theory.

Raising his wand, tip pointed at the child standing in his crib. The _Cruciatus_ curse seemed to fit ideally here. One of the three _known_ unforgivables and it didn't cause any visible damage. Without giving the child's mother a second thought, he acted.

"Crucio" The word was said with such flair one would think they were watching a stage performance.

The effect was immediate, the child's wailing changed. Gone was the soft cry of a baby. The sharp rise in octave and volume conveyed exactly how painful it was, his tiny limbs bending in impossible ways as he writhed in utter agony. His blue-green eyes wide and unblinking, moving frantically in all directions. The only sound louder was the obnoxious shriek of the boys' mother.

Under normal circumstances, Voldemort would take great pleasure in her screams, but not now, now she was interfering with research. A quick silencing charm later and his focus was once again on the writhing infant. He couldn't discern any noticeable difference in the curses actions, but perhaps a few more trials were necessary.

"Crucio" If possible the child's screaming got louder.

…

"Crucio" His tiny hands clawing at everything around in a desperate, crazed frenzy.

…

"Crucio" His screaming turned into a shredded gurgle, the infants throat finally succumbing to the viscous onslaught.

…

"Crucio" There was no crying… no anything…

Voldemort was sure he had killed the infant. Either drowning on his own blood or from over exposure to the _Cruciatus_ curse. He had seen it happen more than enough times when he… _disciplined_ some of his followers. In all honesty the child had lasted a lot longer than he thought physically possible. Most grown men could hardly handle three curses back to back. There were definitely gate ways opened up with the experiment. Now he just needed to run couple controlled trials…

Movement from the crib brought those thoughts to a halt.

Making three cautious steps forward, The Dark Lord peered over the edge. The last thing he expected to see was a baby starring back at him calmly, a baby who had suffered the _Cruciatus_ curse five times. Unmarked and looking incredibly uninterested in him. As if he hadn't just been in excruciating agony moments before, though the red face and small amount of crimson fluid decorating the child's mouth was a clear give away.

"How interesting" He muttered to himself. This was definitely something to look into in the future, for now he had a bloodline to end. "Such a shame you were born a Potter" Voldemort raised his wand at the infant who seemed to focus to an almost frightening degree on The Dark Lord. "You would've made a valuable test subject" He finished, something akin to regret coming into his voice. The results had been beyond his expectations. No matter, he had plenty of resources.

" _Avada Kedavra_ "The words were said with a reverence of an act he held dearest, that instant when the luminescent glow was extinguished and he stood as the sole holder of life. To be the bearer of that outstanding power. A god among ants. Yes, this curse was truly a perfection of all things wizardry.

Well… other than him of course.

A strangled cry of "No" came from his right, Lily Potter had somehow managed undo his spells and had thrown herself in front of the curse. How she managed it he didn't know, nor did he care all too much. The end results would be the same. He almost sighed, foolishness at its finest, to throw your life away for something else. How wizarding culture had survived this long, run by fools like this, The Dark Lord couldn't fathom.

A pity… Severus had been very adamant in keeping the mudblood alive. Oh well, there were plenty of other specimens he could use.

The second the life stealing green light hit her there was a blinding light.

A flash completely unlike that of the killing curse.

A rich golden-orange hue, as if to mock the deathly green energy with its contrast.

Voldemort knew no more…

* * *

Petunia Dursley was a caring mother, loving wife, and all around good neighbor.

The fact she even allowed the freak offspring of her sister to live in her home with her husband and wonderful son spoke volumes of her kind character. Not that she liked the child, far from it. She despised the boy with every fiber of her being, every day he was here was another onslaught on her perfectly normal life. But she couldn't kick him out, the magical freaks had forced him on her, _threatening_ her.

So when the letter came from that freak school, the same one her perfect sister went too, Petunia cried tears of absolute joy. He would be gone… and they'd never see him again if she had her way.

The second the boy was out of the house the horse faced housewife planned to take her family and move far, _far_ away from privet drive. He would be that bearded freaks problem from now on.

Perhaps somewhere warmer? The Isles of Scilly always seemed lovely. Nice and quaint. And Vernon's company had an office there, if she were correct. Never having to be exposed to those disgusting monsters again was sure to have Vernon packing before the papers were even finalized. That was for later, for now… Petunia had a few real-estate related calls to make.

She ignored the small part of her mind that whispered her fears.

About how the child had not once cried, no matter how hard Vernon had beaten him.

About how he would never raise a hand against anyone else. Even though her sweet Dudley had come home frequently with scrapes and bruises complaining that the boy had attacked him.

About how a few times, when Vernon was at his worst, his hauntingly green eyes, eyes so much like her sisters, would pin Petunia down with a look that she couldn't describe.

About how the child barely spoke two words, let alone complete sentences. And when he did speak it was always in that horrific growl. If the freak's schoolwork hadn't been so exceptional, she would've been sure he was touched in the head.

About the occasion Vernon had found a cassette player along with tapes in the boy's cupboard. When her husband had tried to get rid of them, claiming he stole them, the room suddenly came alive… every fixture exploding, the electronic fire place catching actual fire, and Vernon, her generously large husband being pushed into the far wall.

In the chaos, the boy had grabbed the tapes and ran back into the cupboard.

They never spoke of that incident.

About how maybe… maybe her family wasn't perfect… maybe she was just a vindictive sister and Vernon was just an abusive man.

Petunia couldn't dial the real-estate agents number fast enough.

* * *

The richly soft cello playing only enhanced _Hogwarts: A History._ Yo-Yo Ma was truly a gifted musician, but even he couldn't make the dreadful book tolerable. Harry could barely make it past the first chapter before he'd forget what it was exactly he read. He was currently on his fifth iteration of the damned introduction when his uncles angry snapping voice cut right through Bach's Cello Suite No. 1.

"What?" Harry asked, his gravelly voice boarding on a sigh. The book was really starting to piss him off, and hearing his uncle complain about another ordinarily mundane faucet of life was not something Harry wanted right now.

"I said grab your things and get out, boy!" He spat with as much venom as he could muster, apparently the obese man caught his tone. Not like it'd change anything, Harry had long given up on considering the Dursley's family. He'd barely consider them people, but the ten-year-old didn't want to cross that line. There was… something… something about that thought… a feeling he couldn't quite place.

Like the first time he did magic…

Where he would be taking a step somewhere he could never return from.

Pushing this suddenly dark train of thought from his head, he grabbed his trunk and stepped out onto King's Cross. The smell of burning rubber along with a joyous "Good Riddance" from behind him were all the clues Harry needed to know he was on his own.

He was on his own…

He was Dursley free…

The small smile Harry wore was the only indication that he felt like he won a lifetime supply of chocolate. Not like he needed to win anything, he reminded himself gently, unconsciously placing his hand on the pouch full of coins tied to his belt loop. The green eyed boy could buy enough chocolate to last ten life times.

Taking approximately two and a half steps forward, the bespectacled boy stopped mid-stride when with a sudden sense of dread, Harry realized he had no idea where to go.

Odd… he could've sworn he read about it in his letter… only to realize that his letter was currently in _Hogwarts: A History_ , having used it as an impromptu bookmark.

A book that was currently in his Uncles car…

Cursing the damned book and its author into the lowest pits of purgatory, Harry set out to find someone to ask… groaning a moment later when he realized he couldn't ask ordinary people "Hey, do you know where the entrance to Hogwarts is?" That really couldn't go over to well.

Not that the ten-year-old liked the thought of talking to so many strangers… whenever he did, Harry would always get pitying looks and people questioning what happened to his voice. With a deep sigh Harry tried to recall anything about the directions he was given…

Go to platform _something something_ and go through _something_ before Eleven O'clock…'Great' Harry thought morosely, first day at being a wizard and he was already mucking things up. Best course of action was to walk around until he spotted someone "wizardly".

Good thing his Uncle was in such a rush to have him out the house. The orange glow barely peeked over the horizon, he had plenty of time to find his way, for now… Ma was demanding his attention, almost as if the artist was personally insulted for being interrupted.

Putting his headphones on, stopping only for the briefest of moments to move the unruly hair that dared to defy the musician, Harry took off down the edge of the platform, in no real hurry.

* * *

His feet beat against the concreate, breath coming in ragged. Skillfully avoiding colliding with innocent bystanders in his pursuit. He was late. Four hours of searching and he couldn't find one person dressed in robes or carrying a wand around. It wasn't like Harry was expecting someone dressed like Merlin, but at least _some_ indication they were magical wasn't too much to ask.

Hagrid has practically screamed 'magic', his large size supernatural.

He had seen a mob of red heads, all dressed in knitted clothes. They had a "wizardy" feeling about them, but Harry had kept his distance from the loudly arguing family, old habits coming in hard.

Something he now regretted immensely. The green eyed boy had spent the last thirty-five minutes running between platforms, desperate for any kind of lead.

Harry was seriously considering just screaming "Hogwarts!" at the top of his lungs until he got a response.

Just stepping onto platform Nine, hope blossomed in his chest… or his heart exploded, it could've been either at this point.

He thought he saw a familiar red cover. The same shade of red he was cursing hours before.

"Dad" Harry could hardly hear her over the roar of the station. "You've been dragging your feet all morning, I'm late now" Staring down at his watch, Harry hurriedly move towards the bushy haired girl. It was ten till, not exactly late, but the young wizard was hoping she was headed where he thought.

"Okay, okay, I get it." The tall brown haired man stated, hands up in surrender. "My daughter doesn't give a lick about her elderly father" Resting the back of his hand on his forehead, he sighed dramatically.

Harry actually thought he was kinda funny. But judging by the furrowing of the girl's brow and the way she crossed her arms, she was anything but amused.

"Elderly? Hardly, you just turned thirty" The young girl, hopefully a witch, put hands on her hips.

"My spirit is old!" The man countered, sounding affronted.

A loud snort snapped Harry's eyes to the brunette, she seems genuinely amused now. Lips curled in a gentle smirk. They shared a look, and Harry had the sudden feeling he was being left out of some very personal conversation. He was less than five meters away, but he might as well have been five miles away from the father and daughter.

"I'll miss you, daddy, tell mum that I love her and I'll promise to stay safe." The small girl wrapped her father in a big hug, as if trying to convey something in the act. Harry found himself looking anywhere but the duo sharing a clearly intimate moment.

"Ok sweetie, give em' hell" Her father's eyes had gone shiny. With one last squeeze, he stepped back, allowing the brunette to move away and stand right in front of a pillar. Ignoring the odd act for a moment, Harry found himself with the man directly above him. Sweater vest inches from Harry's face. The bespectacled boy went for broke, desperate for his answer. Try his best to clear his throat, he steeled himself.

"Excuse me sir, you wouldn't happen to know anything about Hogwarts would you?" He asked, wincing at the rough sound his mouth produced. Voice sounding much too harsh, even to his own ears. Like a rusty screwdriver hitting a chalk board.

The curly haired man looked taken aback for a moment before answering. "Blimey, you've a voice on you, don't you?" The question was rhetorical, but Harry could still feel his cheeks heating slightly.

Grinning sheepishly, the man coughed into his fist, clearly uncomfortable.

Not that he was the only one…

"Ah, you said Hogwarts right? Lost are you? My daughters actually attending, she's right over the…" The man pointed at the pillar the girl was standing under, only to falter slightly when she was nowhere to be found. With a muttered "magical rubbish", the man sighed.

"…Was right over there… Just walk into that magic pillar… thing… and you should be there." He was making comically vague gestures with his hands, as if it explained everything.

With a small grateful smile, Harry set down his trunk. "Thank you, sir" Wincing only slightly this time, not minding as much about his horrid voice. The man just seemed so open. Not hiding anything behind false pretenses. The green eyed boy found him easy to talk too.

"Please, sir makes me feel like an old fuddy-duddy" Harry didn't know what a "fuddy-duddy" was, but by the way the kind man stuck his tongue out and screwed up his face, it wasn't anything good. "The names Dan, Dan Granger" Sticking his hand out in introduction, that large smile still on his face, the young wizard felt obliged to respond in kind.

"Harry, Harry Potter" Being jostled slightly by the man's fervent handshake, Harry found himself with both of the man's large hands on his shoulders, being gently pushed toward the pillar.

"It's been a pleasure Harry and I truly mean that, but if you don't hurry you're going to miss that train" The ma- Dan. His name was Dan, had been so helpful, Harry couldn't just leave without saying anything. No one had been so nice to him. That trip to Daigon Ally had been eye opening. Everyone was concerned with The-boy-who-lived, only sucking up to him because of what happened with that evil man. No one had actually held a conversation with him, Harry, like that before.

No one since the kind old lady who lived down the street…

Eyes feeling unsettlingly warm, Harry quickly said what he needed too. "Thank you Dan, for everything"

With a gentle push Harry was in an entirely different station.

* * *

"No problem Harry, the pleasure was all mine. Good luck…" Dan replied in a hushed tone, the boy had something about him… like Dan was looking into the past.

He had seen the look in the boys eyes many a time in the mirror. And judging by how the dentist hadn't seen anybody with the child he knew at least some of his doubts were founded. So he wished the boy luck, it seemed like all he could do… He doubted the boy heard him, but that was all part of the magic thing he didn't get.

With one final look at the child eating pillar, he was off. Whistling a jaunty tune, Dan headed towards his car. Plans of heading to the practice and telling his wife of their daughters farewell words filling his head… along with his meeting of surprisingly well-mannered boy with an interesting voice.

Perhaps they'd close the practice down today… Dan wasn't really in the mood to work and he doubted his wife was either.

Both Granger girls put up a tough front, acting like the departure was nothing. But he knew his wife, Emma would probably dip into the wine tonight and have a "Good cry". His daughter would be fine. She was tougher than both her parents.

Perhaps a date night would help ease the sudden gap…

Maybe he'd get lucky tonight…

With Hermione's packing and goodbyes taking up the better part of two weeks, it'd been a rather long time since his "second-in-command" had been on active duty.

With visions of his wife lain bare under him, legs entwined with his own, bosom heaving in ecstasy, begging for more, he pulled onto the free-way.

All melancholy thoughts behind him, eager to get to the women who had stolen his heart and save her from the horrible confines of the office.

* * *

Staring out at the station, parents waving goodbyes to children they adored, he felt detached. Almost like looking at an old painting, so abstract and twisted, he would never quite understand its beauty. But he didn't need to understand it. Harry had himself, that was enough.

It had to be…

A roaring whistle sounded, signaling their departure.

Headphones in hand, he leaned back onto the cushioned seat, sinking in slightly. Casting off the shackles of the muggle world, had the green eyed boy felt lighter.

A new beginning, a new life.

Boisterous symphonies filled his mind and Harry, he allowed himself a relaxed smile.

His journey as a wizard had just begun.

Hermione sighed, saying goodbye to the elder Granger had been surprisingly hard… or not so surprisingly. She held no delusions about the outside world, children were mean, viscous things.

The bushy haired girls parents had been her rock, her one place she was excepted no matter what. She was different… Her teachers said so many times. "She's so gifted!" or "She's years above her classmates!" Were common phrases she heard. And when she turned the living room blue, her parents just added that to the list of things that made her special.

Hermione didn't want to be special…

She just wanted to be like everyone else, not asking so many questions, or knowing so many things. She just wanted to be a girl who had friends… friends who cared about her, whether or not she did last nights homework. Friends she could share interests with.

But she didn't care about clothes or hair… Hermione _liked_ books, she liked how they felt in her hands. So fragile, the weight of so much knowledge resting in her hands was comforting.

Like the mind of another person nestled snuggly in her palms. Sharing the information accumulated over lifetimes of experiences.

The musky smell of a piece of literature older than her more than ten times over.

She loved to learn… New knowledge was like a fine delicacy the witch could never get enough of.

She loved it so much… she just wished it didn't alienate her peers.

Wished it hadn't caused her such turmoil…

Finding out she was a witch was like a saving grace…

Hermione could be different in a way that other kids were too. She didn't have to be "Know-it-all-Granger". She could be just another witch.

She could fit in…

She could have friends…

That pudgy Neville seemed nice enough… when he wasn't going into hysterics over a lost toad. She had even spent a good twenty five minutes looking for the creature. A true test in futility if she ever saw one. What were the odds of finding the amphibian on a train this large? Infinitesimally small.

Hermione had left the boy back at the front of the train when he started blubbering about some "Gran" going to kill him.

Deciding that learning about the incredibly vast and unknown world of magic took precedence over "Trevor" she was off. But as she walked down the isle, rows upon rows of cabins filled, people laughing and playing games with friends, the witch felt something akin to longing. Maybe she could've made friends if she had gotten on earlier..

Finding a vacant cabin near the back, she opened the rosy red door, grumbling about overly-clingy parental figures. Hermione jumped slightly when, instead of the cabin being empty, she was met with the sight of hair, so much like her own, wild and unruly. The black haired boys head swayed to a music she couldn't hear. Glasses folded neatly in lap as fingers, strong and surprisingly nimble, danced in the air. Moving with a fervent grace that left her mesmerized. It was like watching one of the many symphonies her parents took her too. She could practically see the notes dance in the air as digits played unseen keys.

Piano…

 _Beethoven's Diabelli Variations…_

It had only felt like a moment. One instance of her observing something fascinating. Like looking at the cover of a new book.

So many mysteries hidden within…

But when fingers stilled and green eyes locked onto hers, Hermione suddenly felt _very_ self aware.

Being caught staring was bad enough, but the bushy haired girl could _feel_ her mouth open. Slack jawed and basically being caught gawking was not how Hermione wanted to start her new life.

And the boy…

He just sat there and stared!

The brunette could feel the blood rush to her face, like a freshly lit fire, spreading rapidly.

"What?" She snapped, cursing how soft and fragile her voice sounded. Hermione was never good at talking to new people, especially when she was uncomfortable.

And this boy had certainly made her uncomfortable, with how his green eyes seemed to pierce her core, staring right through her. She saw hands move, hands that were previously frozen in the air, to the boys lap. Grasping the pairing of glasses, he put them on.

Eyes focused behind round glass and Hermione found green eyes locked onto hers.

Then he _shrugged_!

Feeling a minor headache coming on, the witch decided to just pretend the whole thing never happened. "Mind If I sit here?" She inquired, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. Hermione had expected a "yes" or a "no", some kind of verbal response to the question.

But the boy just _shrugged again!_

Plopping down louder than what was socially considered polite, she decided to ignore the rude boy and focus on the charms book Professor McGonagall had recommended.

Two hours… two long hours into the trip and Hermione was about to pull her hair out. The boy hadn't tried to engage her at all. She read the charms book several times, until she had it memorized. The boy just sat there in silence, staring out the window at Scotland's vast greenery.

"My names Hermione" She blurted out, voice much too soft for her liking. Green eyes snapped away from the window and she found herself pinned under the boys gaze, like he was analyzing her worth. Weighing every iota of her being.

But then he _still_ didn't say anything.

"Y-You know it's only proper m-manners that someone introduce t-t-themselves when given a n-name" She wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Months of visits by the speech therapists washed away, by what? One boy whose stare unnerved her a bit? Hermione stared at clench fists, her grip white knuckle on the book. Her eyes felt hot and she suddenly wished she were home, home with her parents, away from the world that had so clearly rejected her.

And then he spoke.

"Sorry" The wild hair boy growled, his voice shockingly gruff. " My names Harry" The newly named Harry finished, his tone polite. He raked a hand through untamed locks. She couldn't be sure, but through the tangled ebony hair she thought she saw the peeking's of a scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter? The name sounded familiar. But she put the thought aside for now. She had other questions to get answered.

"What took you so long to reply?" She asked bitterly, Hermione Granger did not enjoy being made a fool.

That was apparently the wrong way to go about it because the black haired boy flinched slightly and brought a hand up to his suddenly pink face.

"I'm… not used to talking very much." He seemed to contemplate deeply on each word. "A lot of people… find my voice… off-putting" The way he finished that, looking so uncomfortable, it relaxed her a little. At least she knew he wasn't being rude now.

"I don't think it's that bad" She said quickly, her voice was stronger now, something Hermione was pleased about immensely. " I actually find it kind of nice… in a tempestuous sort of way" She said without embarrassment, sure the compliment would go over his head, like it would many others.

But he grinned at that. A pleased light entering his eyes, even as her own widened in shock. He'd actually understood that?

Maybe wizarding kids were smart like her as well.

"Your Dan's daughter… right?" Whatever he would have said, talking about the elder Granger was last on the list. Hermione stared at him in what could only be described as horrified shock. How could he know her dad? _How_ _did_ Harry know her dad? Did her eternally unfiltered father mention something he shouldn't of? Oh god! What if he showed baby pictures? Or told him that she cried at the end of sleeping beauty every time it was on. Or…

Further disparaging thoughts were put on hold as the same gruff voice broke through her thoughts.

"Um… Something wrong?" He seemed worried, like he thought he did something.

"N-No… No! It's nothing, I was just a little shocked you knew my dad" Her reply seemed a tad stiff, _she_ was a tad stiff…

"Yeah, I met him right after you went through the pillar." His voice smoothed slightly, not by much but some of the sharpness faded. Hermione privately wondered if he just wasn't used to talking a great amount.

His voiced warmed, gruffness mixed with smooth joy, a vocal combination she _definitely_ did not find "off-putting". "He really helped me out, I probably wouldn't have made it here if it weren't for him." The sheer amount of gratitude came off him in palpable waves. What had her father done to get that kind of response? She'd have to ask him in one of her letters. "…and he's pretty funny too" Harry ended quietly, more of an afterthought than anything.

Instead of vehemently disagreeing with the statement like she'd usually do, Hermione actually thought about her dad…

How he'd play pirates with her when she was little. Dressing up in elaborate costumes to entertain her on Sundays. How he'd, voice comically animated, read to her at night.

Pigs and Wolf's coming alive.

Fairy Godmothers saving the beautifully misunderstood girls.

Love being found on the inside, rather than through superfluous means.

"Yeah" She spoke equally quiet. "He really is" Who'd knew it'd take leaving home to make Hermione Granger admit her dad was indeed, funny.

Not that she'd ever tell him…

* * *

Dan Granger smashed the brakes, car swerving to an unsteady stop, the sound of outraged vehicles turning into a haze of disparaging noise. Automobilist throwing out profanities, letting him know exactly what they thought of his driving. He was sure to get a ticket for that brazenly illegal move…

But none of that mattered.

For the dentist felt like he just won a war…

A mean, nasty, ugly, war.

A war of attrition…

His daughter had just said he was funny. Dan didn't know why, but he was sure of it.

Sirens and flashing lights made themselves known, but Dan just cackled. Like a man unburdened, he greeted the uniform wearing man eagerly, bouncing in his seat. Almost _daring_ the servicemen to try and hinder his good spirits.

Em was _so_ not gonna believe him.

* * *

Movement of the boy caught her eye.

Left…

Right…

Then left again…

There was a definite sway in his moments, moving by the slightest of margins, always returning to his point of origin, like a waltz. Orange caught her eye and Hermione found herself staring at headphones, nearly hidden beneath the boys unruly mane. Had he had those on the whole time? What was he listening too?

Any further observational inquiries were halted abruptly, when a person with strange slicked back hair, opened the compartment door.

"Ah there you are Potter." His voice was snobbish, like they should be grateful he was even here. "The names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Stating it grandiosely, his posture disgustingly confident. She knew his type, the popular ones, not caring what they said or who they hurt. "I'm sure you're aware of the social classes, it wouldn't do you any good to stay here."

Hermione did _not_ like the boy.

"There's room in my compartment, you should join us" The blonde boy continued, completely ignoring her. "We'd certainly be better company than a filthy _mudblood_ " A sneer punctuated the last word and despite herself, Hermione flinched slightly. Mudblood? The brunette had read about that term, it was out dated, derogatory, equivalent to some of the nastier slurs used in older times.

Hermione _definitely_ did not like the little xenophobe.

Glancing sidelong at Harry, she noticed his frown. Like he had tasted something foul, green eyes almost glaring.

"I doubt I could find much better company" She jumped, Harry's rough voice, a voice she had heard moments before, was in a full blown growl. "But thanks all the same" Crashing waves, punctuated by lighting. So unlike earlier. What had caused the change?

Apparently she wasn't the only one shocked. Almost as if he'd been struck, the blonde boy took a step back. Face an emasculant shade of pink, he bit off a retort. "Fine Potter, have fun slumming it" He gave her a pointed look at that. She held her head up high, refusing to bend.

Hermione didn't know why, perhaps it was because someone had stood up for her, but she felt a little bit stronger. The prat turned to leave " Be careful Potter, with that attitude you won't be "The-Boy-Who-Lived" for long". With that morbidly ambiguous warning he left, his pace just a little too quick to be considered nonchalant.

The-Boy-Who-Lived? That was the title in that wizarding newspaper. Of the boy, no older than a newborn, who defeated the horrible dark wizard, at the loss of his parents.

During her trip to Diagon ally, curious as she was about the wizarding world, bought an Issue of The Daily Prophet. It had been fascinating, seeing images move of there own accord, words shifting as she read. Though her amazement was dampened slightly by the amateur writing in most of the articles. The column on Lycanthrope mating patterns had her bubbly with intrigue, that was until she realized it was an overly elaborate personality test.

Whoever this Rita Skeeter was, she certainly had a lot to learn. Too many clearly biased sources, all opinion, hardly any actual facts. But that wasn't the important thing to remember.

Hermione worried her lip, searching her near eidetic memory for the relevant information she so thirstily sought.

Potter!

Was it really him?

Harry Potter… this boy sitting across from her, he was a celebrity. He had saved the wizarding world almost a decade ago, just returning to the public now to attend Hogwarts.

He was basically royalty from the way the newspaper had weaved it. Only being surpassed by the likes of the highest in wizarding culture.

And he just sat here, putting up with an obnoxious girl whose buck teeth and horrid hair made her look beaver-esk. A light shining so brilliantly next to mundane blandness.

Suddenly feeling very humble and more than a little self concise, Hermione made to move cabins, intent on giving the wizarding wonder his own space. Putting her hand around the leather strap of her satchel, attempting to make a hasty retreat, she was stopped from further movement by the same gruff voice Hermione was quickly finding herself liking.

"What's wrong?" Headphones resting around his neck, he leaned forward slightly, eyes covered by a mess of bangs.

N-N-Nothings wrong M-Mr. Potter, I-I-I was just g-going to g-give you s-s-some privacy." Words jumbled together, making it hard to even stutter out a reply. Hermione wasn't ready, not for this.

"Did I… did I scare you?" He questioned, face unreadable. That same gravelly voice subdued, almost resigned. "I didn't mean to… it's just… what he said… really got under my skin, ya'know?" Green eyes almost pleading, he wanted her to stay? Why? She was so… so uninteresting compared to him. Hermione wouldn't have anything of value to say.

"It's n-n-nothings like t-that" Trying her hardest to suppress the embarrassing verbal tick. "Its just… your Harry P-Potter" Hermione finished, expecting that too be enough.

But the boy _shrugged_ a thrice damned time!

"I'm just… Harry" The warmness was back, like the warm breeze after a storm. "And besides… It'd be a little embarrassing if the company I was boasting about so proudly, just up and left." There was a hint of mirth filtered in, bits of sunshine poking through turbulent clouds.

He smiled, and Hermione felt herself smiling back.

* * *

Taking the boats across the black water had been an experience. Incandescent flames, burning gently above the abyss. It was something out of a fairytale…

But _everything_ was a fairytale now.

Hagrid had welcomed him warmly, large hands flailing around in excitement. The giant man had been Harry's very first encounter of magic, a world unknown to him. And the great mass of beard explained things to him in the barest of contexts, allowing Harry to form his own opinions of wizarding society. Something Harry appreciated immensely, he could trust Hagrid. So he had rode the small fairy with him, Hermione at his side.

The girl was looking at everything, wonder evident on her face. Brows furrowed, like she was trying to figure out the puzzle of the luminescent orbs floating above the mysterious dark liquid. The brunette was just like him, raised in the muggle world. Only to be thrown into a brand new life.

A _magical_ life.

They docked and Tchaikovsky drowned out everything.

He had so little time. The romantically wondrous sounds softening the harsh steps of students, eager to find out what house they'd go too. Harry would have been equally enthusiastic, but he could hear Tchaikovsky slowing down.

 _Dying_

Students were herded and Harry followed, ingraining every single note, every sound, desperately. The score was quieting... slowly but surely.

He saw a hat, moving of its own accord. Raggedly stitched mouth, singing unheard lyrics, lyrics Harry had no interest in learning. The pace sped up, almost fighting the gentle lull of eternal slumber. It was captivating, in its own twisted way. How life shown brightest before death, a flame, giving off one last brilliant show before extinguishing.

There was a pause in the music Harry hadn't remembered being there. It was so abrupt that Harry barely heard an older professor call his name.

"Mister Potter?" Accent a thick Scottish. "Perhaps you'd care to be sorted this day?" Her tone giving no illusion of what she thought about his opinions on the matter. Nodding dumbly, eyes not quite focusing on her, he followed the gaping path other students left. Harry didn't know what to make of the situation, what was he to do without his melodies? Of notes telling life stories in hushed whispers?

The music was gone from Harry's world. And in its place was magic.

A trade he hadn't been entirely too sure was equal.

When a wet palm seemed to _touch_ his mind, Harry's focus was solely on the magical object covering his hair.

"Ah, yes, yes, quite the interesting one you are. Its been so long since I've sorted a Potter" The hat seemed to be speaking directly to Harry's mind. Cold, moist digits dug into his brain, almost scooping out information.

It unnerved him more than a bit.

"Such darkness, a mind razor sharp, you'd make a proud Slytherin." The cloth infiltrator mumbled almost to himself. Which was exceedingly strange considering the voice was still in his head. "But that thirst for knowledge, you want to know so much, almost _too_ much, Ravenclaw might be a better fit." It felt like his mind was dripping, almost shuddering in revulsion, he really wished the thing would make up its mind… Or his.

"Oi! You don't rush certain things boy." The head wear grumbled, personally insulted.

A mumbled "Sorry" later and the telepathic hat was off again.

"Now that heart of yours… _Merlin_ boy what happened?" The question was rhetorical, as the hat continued on, uninterrupted. "So fragile… but not quite. And it's size… Hufflepuff might suit you." Ice cold fingers dug in deep, and teeth clenched. His thoughts squeezed together, a jumbled mountain of memories hitting him full force.

Of days in the school yard, punching his cousin, getting his gangs attention, so that they'd leave the nice girl with a limp, alone.

Staring defiantly in his Uncle's eyes, refusing to bow even an inch.

Of days spent in the warm company of the women who opened his world.

Clenching his eyes shut at the onslaught, he felt airborne, nauseous. Too many contradictory thoughts swimming in his head, fighting for dominance.

And just as soon, the hand was gone.

"Bravery of fire, burning through everything, much done before you were aware." The hat sounded borderline melancholy. "Your not making this easy, boy" Though words scolding, the object sounded entirely too pleased. "Honestly, any house would do you justice, where is it you want to go boy?" It's tone gentle, coaxing almost.

But where _did_ Harry want to go? None of the houses looked any different, well… except for the general air of smugness wafting off the Slytherin's table. Not there. Especially with that blonde prick glaring at him.

Ravenclaw was for the scholastically inclined, if the hat was to be believed. Maybe there? Familiar bushy hair grabbed his attention, lip between her teeth and an almost anxious expression on her face.

"GRIFFYNDOR!" The hat's shout had nearly deafened him. What the hell? Why had the hat picked so suddenly?

It seemed almost _smug_ before hands removed the strange headpiece. He shook his head. Deciding there was no use in deciphering the decisions of a magical hat, he moved to sit at the Griffyndor table. Murmuring greeted his arrival. People talking about "The-Boy-Who-Lived", boasting about how he was 'obviously' going to be sorted into their house. It 'only made sense' for him to join the house of the brave. Like it was some personal accomplishment for them.

He was already tired of it.

"Harry" A voice from his right drew his eyes, Hermione. "Are you…" She trailed off, unsure. "Are you OK?" The witch finished, eyes studying the table. He nodded, though she couldn't see it.

"I'll be fine." Voice a whispered croak.

She looked up at him, unconvinced.

They had discussed many things on the journey here. Favorite foods to most adored authors. Finding a shared love in the classics had been delightful, from Mozart to Beethoven to Ma to Tchaikovsky to so many others. Discussing their differences in play style, where they grasped inspiration from.

He honestly had never had such a pleasant time with someone his age, no one around him seemed remotely interested in learning the differences between an A sharp and a B flat. But this girl, she gave articulated responses to his questions. Adding insightful opinions, like how she thought Bach's integrated use of other cultures in his music helped influence change.

When she questioned the headphones, he told her of his dependence on the art, how the melodies helped soothe his mind. It was the first time Harry had said it out loud, a small insignificant weight lifted. But Hermione seemed troubled by his confession.

Almost guiltily she explained how in _Hogwarts: A History_ , it told of the castles old magic, how it prevented 'muggle technology' from functioning within its walls.

She went on to explain her theory of why it was, of magic feeding on the electricity, treating it as an element of nature.

Harry hardly heard her, so enraptured by the thought of his world being quieted. There was an almost panicky feeling in his chest. But he squashed it down ruthlessly, he could handle this.

It was hardly the worst thing to happen to him.

She gave him an 'are you sure' look and Harry nodded. Hermione nodded back, just before the Headmaster gave an incredibly boring speech. Drowning out the rambling elder, he jumped slightly, when food, all a hearty variety, was laid before them. Though he supposed 'laid' wasn't quite the right term, considering how it just appeared without so much as a pop. Curious.

He'd look into how that was possible, a few laws of physics pushing themselves to the forefront of his mind.

But that was for later, grabbing a turkey leg slathered in gravy, he dug in. Eager to fill his much wanting stomach.

He chose to ignore the red-headed beast sitting across from him, mashing the cuisine into his face, like the boy had just discovered what food was.

Well… at least the meal _was_ good.

* * *

Dumbledore peered discreetly over his half-moon spectacles. Watching the young Potter eat his meal, ignoring Molly's son. He had hoped, by casting a minor forgetfulness charm on the boy's letter, that he would meet the Weasely's, asking for help. Trying to help the young orphan establish friendships with the more upstanding pureblood families, an idea he was particularly proud of.

But the boy hadn't asked. He had avoided the red-headed family like the plague. Something that worried the warlock deeply.

The boy was so reserved, Harry seemed almost… reclusive. He hadn't asked anyone for help, just walking around for hours.

Something Dumbledore felt partially guilty about..

He was about to go out and greet the boy, seeing as he was going to miss the train. But Harry had talked to a muggle! Acting friendlier than he had seen him all morning. Thank Merlin the man had a child attending, his quick movement had Harry making it. A relief to the old man.

That did bare the question, why had he been so closed off before?

Perhaps it was his muggle relatives to blame? The aged wizard had known how the Dursley's despised anything magic related, Minerva had told him well enough. While he wouldn't call them "The worst sort" he knew they would have reservations about raising someone so different. It was only human nature, to be wary of the unknown.

That was why he mentioned the security having Harry would bring the house. How they would be safe as long as the boy lived there.

It had worked well enough, Harry was still there after all. But maybe they hadn't been as open minded as he had hoped? The green eyed wizard was nothing like his parents, seemingly fading into the background. Containing none of James's energetic charisma, or Lily's friendly attitude. The boy was guarded, like he was expecting an attack on his person. Did he not know how safe Hogwarts was?

Grabbing his chalice full of pumpkin juice, he took a swig of the bitter concoction, eager to get the suddenly bad taste out of his mouth.

The-Boy-Who-Lived would need to be watched over... too many lives depended on it.

* * *

A week into classes and it was like Hermione had never left the muggle world.

Ignoring all the obviously magical aspects, it was like someone had put her life on replay. None of the other wizarding kids were like her, they didn't care about books. Well the Ravenclaw students did, but that was all they cared about. If it wasn't about class the house rarely interacted with other students.

The classes, for some unknown reason, had been strictly Griffyndor and Slytherin, and seemed to be staying that way for the foreseeable future.

Trying to get the houses with the most animosity towards each other to reconcile, perhaps?

It certainly hadn't worked so far. Malfoy, and his two bumbling lackeys, had been on a mission to try and terrorize anyone they thought was an 'easy target'.

 _Try,_ being the operative word. Whenever they would corner a student, Harry appeared, like a knight of old. Looking more imposing than a ten-year-old should be capable. Things had never quite come to blows, but Hermione was sure if it did, Harry could handle himself.

Most of the house seemed to share her thoughts, though for different reasons. The brunette couldn't take five steps without hearing something about The-boy-who-lived. About how he had stood up to two Slytherin prefects, defended a maidens virtue, along with other dramatic tales of heroism. She was sure he liked the attention, but every time Harry heard something about his title, he would grimace and walk away.

Odd…

Putting her books down, careful to be as quite as possible, lest Madam Pince lecture her on proper library etiquette. The avian mimicking librarian was quick to anger, always scolding someone for mistreating the literature. Hermione cared for books as well, but Madam Pince took proper book care to an unhealthy level.

Finding her research topic with practices ease, she went about collecting notes on the different levitation charms. Eager to compare them with her texts on brooms. The flying cleaning equipment had caught her interest immediately, watching the sports team soar, so high in the air, so free. Hermione wanted to experience the wonder of flight, having never been airborne before.

Her aeronautical related thoughts were put on hold when, like a shadow, Harry appeared, looming over her.

Scrunching down slightly in reflex, she regarded the boy wearily. Minus the one instance on the train, she hadn't held a conversation with the boy. Harry had always seemed just out of reach, walking around solitarily.

Though the green eyed boy had remained elusive, the brunette had quickly formed a general consensus about most of the student body. No one talked to Hermione Granger without wanting something. Whether it was help with assignments or to poke fun at the bookworm, everybody had a motive.

" _What?"_ She hissed, voice nearly inaudible. It was a library after all.

He took a half step back, seemingly aware of their position. Face a focused mask of thought, the green eyed boy raised a brow at her, almost questioning her inquiry.

But he just _shrugged._

"Just curious" Voice a hushed rumble. He had a small smile on his face, entirely too pleased in her opinion. "What cha reading?" His eyes roved over her research, and her hands instinctively covered the open pages.

"N-Nothing" Great, she was stuttering again. Couldn't she have _one_ place where she could relax?

"Nothing, huh? Neat" He had sat down across from her, hands behind his head, green eyes borrowing into hers. Willing her to answer his question. She felt her cheeks heat slightly, thoughts coming in disarrayed, making it impossible to speak.

Hermione didn't know how to handle him…

Harry seemed oblivious to her inner turmoil, either that or he just chose not to comment on it. Tilting his chair back, the wild haired boy sighed. "I'm not gonna bite, you know" He muttered, eyes studying the high ceiling.

If Hermione didn't know any better, she could've sworn he sounded the tiniest bit upset.

"Levitation charms" She blurted out, wincing when she heard the harsh shushing noise the Librarian made in retaliation. "I-I'm studying levitation c-c-charms" The brunette explained, whispering the words carefully.

Instead of questioning why she was studying something they wouldn't cover for at least two months, or poking fun at her. The green eyed boy simply nodded, content with her answer. What did he want exactly? His behavior was odd to say the least. The boy was just so random at times.

Movement in her peripherals snapped her to attention, _Levitation: And How It Benefits You_ was moving across the table, into Harry's hands.

"W-What are y-you doing?" Had he come to mess with her after all?

Harry simply _shrugged_ again. Much to her growing annoyance.

The boy opened the book to page one. Not looking up, eyes reading the information at an impressive pace. He seemed satisfied, just reading the book, sitting across from her without so much as a word of explanation. The bushy haired girl _really_ didn't know what to make of him. Was he interested in studying? Had he come looking for help? He hadn't asked any favors. And he certainly didn't look like he planned to come here.

Sighing, the brunette pushed the mounting puzzle that was Harry Potter from her mind. She would ignore the enigma for now. Picking up where she left off in _BroomWorks,_ Hermione immersed herself in the crafting magic section of the book.

All the while, a small unnoticed smile graced her lips.


	2. Just Being A Friend

Dumbledore's office had never been quite so silent. Even Fawkes was unusually reserved, tucking his beak down in resignation. Severus's report on the boys mind had been troubling.

The potions master had said the boy had shields. Shields stronger than he could penetrate. What was worse? Snape had suggested that Harry had attacked his mind.

Thoughts drifted to a boy, a natural occlumens. His mind stronger than most at the tender age of twelve. So closed off from everything. Legilimency came like a fish to water, the boy, able to rip threw the minds of others at a mere whim.

That boy had grown to do evil. So many horrific deeds done by a man almost as powerful as his dear Grindelwald. But where his love had honor and a reason behind his actions, Voldemort had nothing. Nothing stopping him from what he wanted, and killing just to do the disgusting deed. A truly despicable man.

Popping a lemon drop in his mouth, the delightfully sour treat dancing on his tongue, Dumbledore sighed, he would do what was necessary. Another Tom would not come to power under his watch.

* * *

Peering discreetly over _Innate_ _Magics_ , her fingers stilling in-between pages, at the boy sitting across from her yet again, Hermione _still_ didn't know what to make of him.

Every time she was here, Harry would pop up randomly, asking what she was reading. The brunette had realized early on that, if she wanted to be able to focus, it was best to just answer the wild haired boy honestly.

Lest he stare her into a stuttering mess…

Harry would simply nod and grab one of the other dozen or so books Hermione had collected. Sitting down without so much as a peep and begin reading. If his smile wasn't so sincere, the bushy haired witch would've been sure he came to bother.

She watched him as he read, trying to figure out the puzzle that was one Harry Potter. It was frustrating in a way… not knowing.

Maybe she'd start taking notes…

Hermione, ever mindful of the boys gaze, discreetly jotted down what she knew so far.

 _He loved music._

 _He was great at flying._

 _He didn't care about his fame._

 _He hated bullies._

That was it… those four things defined Harry as she knew him. It was hardly any information, she realized with a small grimace.

 _I'm gonna figure you out Harry Potter._

With that final thought she went back to her book, though it didn't quite hold the same intrigue as before.

* * *

Classes had started, the basics of magic being explained. How every wizard had a core to draw their power from, this same core that muggles lacked, preventing them from seeing magic. What a wand did for the energy, channeling it into form. The basics of the basics.

It was a boring first month for Harry.

He had hoped the Professor's would show practical applications of the text. But they went over things that Harry had inferred the first time he held a wand.

Honestly, how hard was it to understand? The wand was a catalyst, only an quill, drawing the shape you wished your magic to take form. It wasn't like they were talking about the origins of the power itself.

He might've had a better grasp of his magic though… others seemed to fight with the basic concepts, like the Weasely boy. Complaining rather loudly whenever the chance arose. He wasn't the only one, many wizarding children couldn't seem to understand what there supernatural energy actually was.

Not to say everyone was struggling…

Hermione lead in all the classes, much to the chagrin of the 'pure bloods'. It was humorous in a way, watching someone who was so sure of their superiority, that they couldn't properly reacted to failure. He even saw one first year girl burst into tears over the news.

The green eyed boy may have had a dark sense of humor….

Ironically, Harry had found he gained more from his admittingly sparse conversations with the bushy haired girl than he had throughout all the redundant lessons.

When he could weasel out some responses from the brunette, that is…

The Granger girl was incredibly elusive, only finding her in the library a handful of times. Much to his mounting annoyance.

The journey to Hogwarts had been a breathe of air Harry hadn't realized he needed.

Suffocating in solitude, without even trying to breath. He had grown so accustomed to the way things were. Harry had forgotten the feeling that came with talking to someone, of two people simply exchanging information.

It was pleasant.

And he wanted that pleasant feeling again.

But the girl seemed so subdued now, keeping her opinions and ideas to herself unless called upon, and even then it was in a quiet voice that shook.

A flash of black entered the corner of his bespectacled vision.

Harry felt his grip tighten, the greasy haired potions professor strode down the corridor, that damned sneer in full force. How he had gotten a position near children the green eyed boy would never understand. The bastard had been on his shit list since day one.

Harry trusted first hand observations and hands on experience above all else. It was how he survived. One could never trust the Dursley's after all.

When the git chewed out the bushy haired witch for answering his question with 'excessive' detail, his ire grew. When he further humiliated her by docking house points and calling her a Know-it-all in no unclear terms, Harry glared at the man for all he was worth. Beady black eyes met green and he felt a familiar sensation, like when he was being sorted, only considerably more mild.

When he saw the bastards disgusting smirk, like he was _proud_ of what he had done, Harry felt a surge of anger wash over him. The mongrel was nothing but a pathetic bully! The potions 'master' flinched back and spun on his heel, continuing on with the lesson, acting like nothing happened.

But something did happen.

Glancing subtlety over to his right, which was incredibly difficult with his glasses on, Harry saw Hermione. Her face burning with shame, eyes glued to the book at the table. He could see her shrinking in, putting a barricade between herself and everything else.

Glaring up at the potions professor one final time, he brought his own eyes down. Silently promising to make the Professor rue the day he messed with one Hermione Granger.

Shaking out of his revenge themed thoughts, Harry sped down the hallway, eager to get to his first flying lesson.

* * *

Minerva strode down the corridor with a purpose, almost gliding on the stone floor. The Deputy Headmistress was getting too old for this... She had witnessed the whole thing. The whole inconceivably dangerous thing. From the Longbottom boy breaking his wrist in an impressive display of clumsiness, to Lily's son, flying higher in the sky than the training brooms should allow.

But he had _flown_ … flown so much like James that the Transfiguration Professor forgot to breath.

Casting a simple eavesdropping charm, she gazed on eagerly, trying to discern the instigator of the conflict. The boy was standing tall and facing Lucius's spawn without a shadow of fear, demanding he give the Longbottom boy's remembrall back. That noble spirit of her troublemaking student clearly visible.

She almost shouted when, in an act of aggression, the Malfoy scion threw the object out of Potter's reach. He had acted so recklessly, standing on the broom, brushing the castles exterior with its bristles. Catching the object with surprising dexterity, ratty trainers perched magnificently on the tip of his broom handle, completely vertical with the castles wall.

What had he been thinking? He could have died! His favorite students sacrifice almost wasted in an act of extreme foolishness. She'd give the boy a tongue lashing, that was for sure.

After asking if he was okay of course… she wasn't without compassion.

Perhaps Wood would be interested in taking the boy underwing? The team was needing a new seeker. And he certainly seemed to have the talent. That was for later though, for now… she had a child to scold.

* * *

"…And if I ever see you doing anything so foolishly reckless I'll have you in detention for the rest of the semester!" Professor McGonagall admonished him again, which felt entirely to much like the third time she had said it. How had Malfoy managed to weasel his way out of this? Hands in pockets, he gazed up at her, almost bored. He had long gotten used to the way Teachers reacted, always looking at effect, never at the cause of actions.

"And remove your hands from your pockets Mister Potter! I expect a modicum of respect from my house!" Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Harry removed them, waiting for the inevitable explosion that was sure to come. No sooner had the digits left there confines did Professor McGonagall, accent thicker than he remembered, go off again.

"Goodness!" She exclaimed, shock clear on her face. "Broken fingers?!" Her voice almost a shout, he kinda thought she was being dramatic. He had barely grazed the wall, his pinky and ring fingers on each hand, at the high velocity he was accelerating at, snapped unforgivingly against the aged stone. Not like it hurt much, more of a warm burn under the skin if he was honest.

"Broken fingers!?" She repeated, and he resisted the urge to groan, sure it would only hinder his quest to escape the Transfiguration Professor. Gripping him lightly by the shoulders, she led him to the infirmary, seeking a 'Madam Pomfry' to heal his injuries.

This time he did groan, while he appreciated the concern, it wasn't necessary. Harry would heal soon enough on his own, years of experience proved that well enough.

* * *

Looking skeptically at the tiny little thing standing in front of him, hands wrapped in bandages, he wondered if maybe Ol' Minerva was turning senile. The scrawny kid looked like he'd topple over if the wind nicked him at the wrong angle.

"Er… Professor" Oliver stated hesitantly. "How exactly is a first year going to help us win the cup?" The quidditch team captain tried to make it sound like he wasn't questioning her judgement.

Last time had been enough, thank you very much.

"Oliver, young Mister Potter here was quite impressive in his first flying lesson." The quidditch veteran praised, much to the green eyed boys confusion. The boy had looked annoyed through out the entire conversation.

Oliver liked his spunk.

"But… he's just a first year" He stated a little lamely. It hadn't been until his third year that they would even give him a shot.

He may have been a little bitter about that still…

"And as a first year, Mister Potter performed a McGregor Faint, transitioning into a Willowing Vault a split second later." The Transfiguration Professor seemed almost giddy.

A low whistle sounded, and it took Oliver a moment to realize it was him. If the boy could do that… they'd definitely crush Slytherin this year.

The first year wonder seemed uncomfortable, which was too bad… because the Quidditch team captain was about to make it a whole lot worse.

Grasping the boy by the shoulders, his grip iron, the stocky boy stared into alarmed green eyes.

"Practice starts tomorrow, we'll get you fitted for a uniform immediately." Not waiting for protests, Oliver picked up his new Seeker, ignoring Professor McGonagall's calls that he "slow down" in the hallways. Intent on making sure his team's new secret weapon looked the part.

* * *

The sound of a book slamming shut had Hermione up with a start. The flickering flame of the fireplace basked the room in a warm amber glow. Green eyes behind rounded glass met hers, laughter filled. When did she fall asleep? Looking out a nearby window, darkness greeted her. Last thing she remembered, she was studying up on broom theory.

After Harry's stunning display of aeronautical prowess, she was even more captivated by the flying cleaning equipment. What made them defy gravity? Was it charms? Or some technique in the crafting process? And why brooms? So many questions surrounded the wonders.

The texts in the library that the first years were allowed to read barely explained what a broom was. It was a shame too, flying looked so wonderful.

It was too bad she nearly had a panic attack when she went airborne.

The constant movement of the broom had her rocking unsteadily after a few seconds, nearly repeating Neville's earlier display. Much to the other students amusement. It was the one thing the houses seemed to agree upon, that Hermione Granger was a laughing stock of a witch.

She hadn't gotten back on after that, too embarrassed to even try, even as Ron Weasely, albeit unsteadily, floated around her, mocking her for her ineptitude.

How had Harry made it look so effortless?

He was so fast, so graceful, literally flying without his hands. She nearly had a heart attack when he rushed towards the wall, no signs of slowing down, up turning a split second before impact. But he stood atop the instrument... aloft in the air, Neville's Remembrall held proudly above his head. She would have cheered, but Professor McGonagall stormed out of the castle, demanding that Harry and the instigating blonde prat come with her at once.

That's right! She had waited in the Griffyndor common room, worried about the one boy who treated her like she wasn't an annoying know-it-all.

Bandages hands greeted her, she was around the table in an instant.

"Harry" Her voice a hissing whisper, it was _way_ beyond curfew. "What h-happened t-t-to your h-hands" gently talking one of the gauze wrapped appendages in her hand, she worriedly looked at him, expecting some kind of explanation.

But he just _shrugged_!

He smiled cheekily at her glare, she huffed, admitting defeat. "Nothing much" He answered with a small eye roll, voice deeper from the late hour, clouded sky's turning a dark grey. "Madam Pomfry was just being a worrywart" Though complaining, his tone conveyed approval. "The Bone-Mending potion had tasted like feet dipped in an ashtray though." He stuck his tongue out at that, eyes screwed shut.

She frowned. "Bone-Mending potion?" She repeated, a surprising edge there. He jumped slightly when she pinned him with a look that said 'explain'.

Her lips tugged upwards the tinniest bit at that.

"I only broke four fingers, no big deal. Madam Pomfry still wants them covered so the bones set right, I'm fine really." Hermione searched his face, looking for some evidence to the contrary. He wasn't trying to be tough, she realized, It really was no big deal to him.

They had stayed far away from topics such as family, friends, and home life on the train ride. Neither of them eager to share the intimate memories. Now though… she wanted to know more about him. _Why_ was it no big deal to him? How could he be so nonchalant about injuries like that?

The bushy haired girl couldn't help but notice the disparaging state of Harry's clothes. Worn clothe draped over his frame comically, the school robes concealed them most of the time, but Hermione had caught glimpses. Just what was Harry's life like?

For the first time, Hermione Granger had questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answers too.

"H-How could you be s-s-so reckless?" She admonished. She couldn't quite explain why she took it personally. Like he had somehow offended her with his actions. It was… _strange._

"I don't like bullies" His tone was hard, thunder in those dark gray clouds. For the first time, Harry's smile slipped away, a much more serious expression on his face.

She just nodded dumbly, not having a response to that. His… 'presence'… for lack of a better word seemed to grow at that statement… encompassing her.

As soon as it disappeared, the smile returned, lazier. "So you were waiting here for me?" She could _hear_ the grin in his voice. Vibrant green sought out hazel, and Hermione stared down in-between them, suddenly finding the embroidered rug to be _very_ interesting.

"I was worried" She replied, cheeks feeling a little warmer. Why was she embarrassed? It didn't make any sense.

There was a long pause, the sound of crackling wood filled the silence. And Hermione was suddenly very aware of every breath they both took.

"…Really?" His voice sounded like hers, soft and wavering. Sounding so much like the first time they met. Hermione nodded without looking up.

Bandaged hands closed gently around hers, looking up from the tapestry, she saw familiar green.

"Sorry" His tone quite. The brunette barely heard him over the gentle roar of the fire. "I promise to be more careful, okay?" How could his voice change so much? It sounded like the bespectacled boys words were melting.

She spun quickly on her heel "You'd better" Was her only response. Hermione walked away fast, eager to get to bed, and hopefully cool her mysteriously warm face off.

A barely heard "Goodnight" had her walking even faster.

* * *

Watching the Quidditch captain hum to himself in thought, had Harry rolling his eyes. The boy was dramatic to a fault. All Harry had asked was a simple question and Wood was acting like it was a decision between life and death.

"Hmmm" The wannabe actor shifted his weight, fingers wrapping idiotically around his chin. Taking a deep breath, the green eyed boy tried to be patient. Couldn't snap at his new Captain after all. Harry watched as the boy took a deep breath, preparing to speak. "Hmmm" And just like that the stocky boy was back in the idiotic pose, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Wood!" Harry had basically growled out the name. His new Captain had a way of getting under his skin that the green eyed boy wasn't used too. And he wasn't too sure, but Harry was positive the stocky boy knew what he was doing.

"Alright, alright, Harry, if it's that important to you then your friend can watch the practice." The stocky boys tone was a tad smug, but Harry ignored it. He gave his Captain a small smile of thanks, before heading off, eager to share the good news.

* * *

Hermione worried her bottom lip. "Y-You w-want me to w-watch you?" She was sure she had misheard him. Nobody would invite know-it-all-Granger anywhere.

But Harry simply nodded his head, that same grin still on his face.

"Well it'll be my first practice with the team" He started, his excitement bubbling over. Sun showers glittering in that clouded sky. "And since you've read all those books on brooms, I figured you'd like first hand observations the most."

The brunette simply gawked at him, not too sure what to make of the invitation.

Was he being sincere? Had he heard about the broom class incident? The bushy haired girl just didn't understand. What was Harry's goal?

"Hermione" The boy in question cut into her thoughts. "You don't have to come if you don't want too" He shifted slightly, almost nervously. "I just thought you'd like it" The green eyed boy muttered.

He thought she would like it? Harry actually thought about her? Her chest warmed at the thought. The green eyed boy cared enough about her to invite her to his _first_ practice.

Like he considered her a friend…

"H-Harry, I'd l-like that" Her voice came out soft, and for once Hermione didn't mind.

The boy grinned at that, green eyes scrunching up behind round glasses.

"Great! Practice starts after classes tomorrow. I'll see you there" Hermione nodded, though the boy couldn't see it, Harry was already on his way down the hallway.

 _He was friendly_ was added to the list.

Writing quickly, she made her way to the library, excited to use the note Professor McGonagall had given her. Hopefully the second and third year texts would provide some actual insight on the mysterious instruments.

* * *

Dodging a Bludger for the third time, Harry grinned, this was the _best_.

"Ickle Harrikins has-" One Weasely twin started.

"Some moves on him, that he does brother O' mine." The other finished, neither twin stopping there bats. They were in complete synch, not batting an eye at the Bludgers being juggled in-between them.

Tightening his grip on the handle, Harry summersaulted over the well placed iron sphere of pain. He laughed in triumph, before the second unseen Bludger made itself known. The iron ball knocked savagely into the green eyed boys bristled end, causing him to tumble down to the earth. The cushioning charms on the pitch definitely helped, but Harry could still feel the ground underneath him with a distinctive slam.

"Apparently not good-"

"Enough quite yet-"

"Needs a bit more-"

"Practice, that he does brother."

Harry groaned at the banter, the twins were all to gleeful when Wood told them to help him with his reflexes.

"Harry! A-Are y-you OK?" The soft voice of his friend filtered in over the twins laughter. The green eyed boy looked up at her in the stands, note pad in hand, lip tucked in-between her teeth, starring worriedly at him. Harry sent her a thumbs up and laughed. Copper painted the inside of his mouth, but he ignored it.

"That all you got George? How about you Fred?" He taunted the twins, watching as the laughter subsided and all that was left were twin smiles of mischief.

"Ickle Harrikins truly is-" George started, an unsettling glint in his eyes.

"-The best, that he is brother, that he is." Fred finished, his smile growing wider.

"Honestly, you two are getting _way_ toocarried away" A feminine voice directly behind him admonished.

The twins smiles dropped immediately, something akin to fear showing on their identical faces.

"A-Angelina, we weren't-" George began, a slight sweat that had nothing to do with practice broke out on his brow.

"Doing anything wrong-" Fred added, a little too defensively.

"Honest, Wood's orders and all-"

"That, wouldn't do anything-"

"To seriously hurt-"

"Ickle Harrikins, we swear" They finished in unison, words jumbling together. Fred offered the Chaser a shaky smile, which judging by her narrowed eyes wasn't doing much.

"I'm sure" The menacing girl stated flatly, knuckles cracking. "Well, tell you what, I'm gonna take over the kids training for awhile and if Wood has an issue with it he came come to me. Are we clear boys?" Though a question, her tone suggested it was anything but.

"Crystal!" Came the startled shouts of the twins. Harry had noticed George was on the other end of the pitch, when had he gotten there?

A hand on his upper arm lifted him to his feet, looking up he was greeted with Angelina's gentle smile.

"Sorry about them Harry, those two don't know the meaning of 'practice'." Her voice was sweet, completely unlike a minute ago.

The green eyed boy just nodded, not too sure what was going on. Angelina laughed, ruffling his hair, turning the unruly locks into an untamable nest.

"Relax Harry, I'm not gonna bite your head off." She giggled the words out. "Now come on, let's practice some basic maneuvers. I promise to be gentle." She finished with a smile that had a shiver running down his spine.

"Poor Harrikins, he was so young" He heard George mutter to Fred, the other twin nodded sympathetically.

"Shut it you two!" Angelia growled out, holding one fist up menacingly.

"Yes Ma'am" Both boys said immediately.

"Ignore those dimwits, they barely share enough brain cells for one person." The Chaser grabbed her broom, mounted it and circled him slowly, she seemed eager.

Grabbing his own broom, careful to wipe off the dirt, he went airborne. Floating just below the tough girl, Harry looked at her questioningly.

"Now Harry, lets see what you can do" There was a slight challenge there, and the wild haired boy grinned.

"Yes Ma'am"

* * *

"So how'd you like the practice?" Harry questioned, picking bits of grass out of his teeth.

Hermione grinned at him, holding up her notepad with glee. "It was v-very informative, I had n-no idea the p-p-position of ones hands d-dictated maneuverability." She paused, and Harry flinched slightly when he felt her fingers brush against his forehead.

"S-S-Sorry H-Harry, you j-just had… you h-had this i-in your h-hair." The bushy haired girl held up a small flower in her hand, it's white petals bent awkwardly.

"Oh…uh thanks Hermione." He raked a hand through his hair, finding a handful of small leafs and twigs, he chuckled slightly. Angelina's idea of 'basic' was a lot different than the green eyed boys.

A small gasp across from him had the green eyed boy staring at the brunette confused.

"H-Harry, you're b-bleeding" Small digits danced behind his temple, and a startled hiss escaped his lips before the wild haired boy could stop it. The offending hand pulled back as if burned, crimson staining the extremity. "I-I-I'm s-so s-s-sorry H-Harry, it's just… y-you w-were bleeding… a-a-and I-I just… I-I'm so s-s-sorry." The intelligent witch seemed to be having a mini panic attack.

"Hermione it's fine! _I'm_ fine!" He began, trying to calm down the nearly hysteric girl. "You just surprised me is all. I'm… not really used to people touching me much." The green eyed boy added, voice little more than a whisper. His upbringing was… a touchy subject.

The brunette seemed to relax at his words, though she still looked a tad bit skittish. "A-Are you r-really okay?" The bushy haired girl asked, voice softer than ever.

Harry nodded his head in the affirmative before grasping her wrist gently, ever mindful of the blood, _his_ blood on her hand. "I'm tougher than I look, you know." He spoke the words evenly, gently wiping the crimson fluid off.

Hermione nodded, her eyes never leaving his hand.

"H-Here Harry" A light blue Handkerchief found its way into his vision. Green eyes met hazel and Harry caught the silent plea. Grabbing the small square cloth, the wild haired boy pressed it against the wound, wondering if he had gotten it from his fifth over sixth fall.

"Thanks" The faint smell of cherries wafted off the small object, and Harry found himself relaxing in the wooden chair.

"You're w-welcome Harry" She replied, a pleased smile gracing her lips.

* * *

The brunette couldn't believe it. If she wasn't holding the notebooks in her hands, Hermione would doubt her sanity.

Every practice, every single one, Harry had insisted she watch. The brunette had protested weakly, not wanting to overstay her welcome. But the wild haired boy shook his head, emerald green never leaving hazel.

 _I want you there Hermione._

Those were the words… those were _his_ words. Lying in her bed, notebooks clenched to her chest, she couldn't describe the feeling… like reading Pride and Prejudice for the first time… but not quite.

Needless to say, Hermione's resolve quickly crumbled. The brunette liked the thought… Of someone wanting her anywhere.

So she went, first aid kit by her side, to every practice, writing notes as detailed as possible, trying her hardest to repay the kind boy back. But nothing she ever did seemed good enough… how could one repay such an ultimate kindness?

Harry was the friendliest person she had ever met. No one even came close for the brunette.

When she had subtlety asked him what she could do, the green eyed boy looked surprised. Harry had laughed and told her that he didn't need anything. The boy had went on to lament about how much _he_ owed _her_ , claiming that he learned amazing things from the time they spent together.

Hermione couldn't look him in the eye after that…

Carefully placing the precious information in her bed drawer, the brunette rolled over, eager to see her friend play tomorrow.

* * *

"I'm Lee Jordan and welcome to the first game of the season!" The announcer spoke with an enthusiasm she found herself matching. "This match is between the glorious Gryffindor's, who are lead by the strong and courageous Oliver Wood!" The stands around her erupted in cheers, Dean Thomas flailing about in… a _very_ visible display of joy. Hermione found herself enjoying the vibrant atmosphere, everyone seemed so happy…

"…And Slytherin… lead by Flint…" Lee's voice monotoned, distain creeping in. The cheers turned into a harsh booing a moment later, what was that about? Hermione had read about house rivalries, running as far back as the founding of the school, but surely that wouldn't warrant such brazen hate.

Maybe their was something she didn't know?

The brunette would figure that out later, for now, all she wanted to see was Harry play.

Almost as if hearing her thoughts, the green eyed boy soared above the stands, clad in red and yellow, following his team out onto the pitch. And the stands exploded once again, but this time Hermione didn't pay them any mind, too focused on how spectacular Harry looked. Wild hair everywhere, fighting the wind for dominance, that small challenging grin planted on his face.

The wild haired boy really did love Quidditch…

The sport was certainly interesting to watch, and flying looked as amazing as ever, but the brunette couldn't find the courage to get back on the proverbial horse. Hermione had taken solace in watching Harry, every practice the boy moved with an ease that she envied, doing maneuvers that got her queasy just looking at them. It was almost breathtaking… the way he left the earth behind, taking flight to a place she couldn't go.

Like a bird soaring away, nothing holding it back…

"Flint just tried to knock Potter off his broom! Where was the call on that? No good slimy Slytherin son of a b-"

"Mister Jordan!" Professor McGonagall's voice cut in.

"-utterscotch making farm family…" Lee finished his statement awkwardly… giving the impression he forgot where he was for a moment. "Ahem… quite right Professor… And the beautiful Angelina's just scored! Don't let the good looks fool you folks, this girl's got moves that'd put some pro's to shame!" And the announcer was back on track like nothing had happened. "Wish she wasn't so cruel though, crushed my heart without a second thought, she did. I mean, I'm not bad looking right? I dare say I'm quite handsome, funny, compassionate… I'm not the worst person out there, that's for sure. I'm telling you Angelina, you sho-"

"Lee!"

"What? Oh right… Quidditch"

Hermione tuned out whatever else was said by the distracted Quidditch announcer. Harry was hanging from his broom, left hand all that was keeping him from falling 6 stories. The snaggletoothed Slytherin captain was circling the green eyed boy like a vulture, something that unnerved the brunette more than a bit…

From her research, there had never, in the long history of the sport, been a game of Quidditch without at least one injury. And that was excluding malice intent from other players.

The murmuring around her didn't dispel her worries either…

Talk of The-boy-who-lived dying in his first Quidditch match reached her ears. Anger blossomed in her chest, surprising her. Hermione wasn't one to get angry, the hot emotion was messy… and it was counterproductive. But the way they talked about Harry… like he was some kind of object, something there for their entertainment, not a person with feelings… it _did_ make her mad. Harry Potter was her friend, and she _certainly_ did care whether he was hurt or not.

Though the wild haired boy didn't seem to feel the same way about himself…

Resting one shaky hand on her wand, the brunette took a deep calming breath. If anything did happen… she would make sure Harry was okay.

Green eyes bore into hers, holding no trace of the fear she felt. All the bushy haired girl could see was an unbridled joy, shining brightly in those emerald eyes. The courageous boy sent her a thumbs up, grinning the whole time, before flipping onto his broom in an incredible display of acrobatics. The stands roared and even Hermione gave a small cheer for the amazingly skilled boy.

Harry didn't seem to be paying attention though… too focused on the tiny gold speck zipping through the air.

The wild haired boy turned left, diving down towards the earth at dizzying speeds. The brunette bit her lower lip in worry, she had seen him practice, so hard, and for such a long time. The green eyed boy had pulled off amazing maneuvers under the onslaught of his teammates, the Weasely twins especially. But watching him play so recklessly… it had anxiety gripping her heart.

Harry was grazing the earth now, the grass moving underneath him, drawing a clear indication of where he was moments before. The green eyed boy was almost a blur, red uniform the only distinguishable thing she could see from her seat in the stands. Her friend was certainly fearless… she couldn't even think about doing any of that without a tremor of fear running up her spine. The red headed boy sitting in front of her was going crazy, rambling off terms the brunette had skimmed over in passing.

Hermione didn't quite know what a "McGregor Faint" was, but it certainly sounded impressive.

Something between a shriek and a gasp left her lips. The spot where Harry had just been a moment before was blown apart, dirt shooting high into the air. A Bludger was imbedded in the earth, the iron sphere making a sizable crater in the ground.

That was too close for her comfort…

Harry didn't seem aware of the nearly catastrophic collision, red blur still speeding along the pitch, though it had somehow gotten taller… The golden speck was barely ahead now, millimeters in front of her friend, both moving at an insane speed.

A moment later and Hermione discovered the reason behind the wild haired boy's sudden growth. Harry had been standing on his broom, in what she assumed was an attempt at grabbing the elusive object, before he tumbled forward, head over end. The prone form of the green eyed boy greeted everyone, the bushy haired girl could hear Lee shouting something about Seekers, but she was already on the field, Professor McGonagall just steps in front of her.

He wasn't moving… Oh God… what if he broke his neck? He'd be paralyzed, unable to move. What if he hit his head and was hemorrhaging that very moment?

What if Harry was dead?…

Her eyes burned at the thought. A Hogwarts without Harry… The brunette couldn't even imagine it. The green eyed boy had made himself apart of her life, always giving her a smile no matter the situation. Hermione hadn't had a chance… she had never repaid him, never showed how grateful she was, and now… she never might get too...

"Did you guys see that? Potter totally ate it! Looks like The-boy-who-lived is the The-boy-who-crashed"

Hermione grit her teeth, aware of how her front teeth dug into her lip. The terrible joke was made by a Slytherin third year, the blonde boy had a smirk on his face that the bushy haired girl desperately wanted to remove. Did he think he was being funny? Her friend was hurt, and he… and he thought it was humorous. The familiar feel of her wand greeted her fingers, and Hermione had a great idea on how to remove that look.

Just then, Harry's right arm shot straight up, fist pointed at the azure sky, golden wings flapping between his fingers.

"The snitch has been caught! Gryffindor wins!" Lee shouted, marking the ending of the exhausting match, making the crowd around them disperse almost instantly.

Green eyes found her and all thoughts of retaliation left. The brunette collapsed to her knees beside him, exhausted. He was okay… Her friend was okay, and he still had that same smile on his face.

"That could've gone better" Harry joked, seemingly in no hurry to get up.

"You think?" She questioned flatly, not really amused by the accident.

"Yeah, standing on the broom handle increases speed, but the handling drops off something fierce." His gravely voice was calm, relaxed. A breeze floating gently along those clouds, and Hermione sagged a little, relieved to hear him talk.

"Mister Potter, I trust your alright?" Professor McGonagall was standing over them, arms crossed and eye brow arched. The bushy haired girl couldn't believe they had forgotten the transfiguration Professor was there.

"Hmmhmm, I'm fine Professor, just a little dirty… and tired." The wild haired boy's statement was punctuated with a yawn.

The Professor nodded at that. "Let us hope you're more careful in the future." Not waiting for a response, Professor McGonagall walked away, curtailing any of the more excited fans.

"You promised to be more careful." Hermione scolded, ignoring the heat that came with the thought of when exactly that promise was made.

"Sorry" He replied quickly, earnest regret sprinkling into his voice. Hail raining down from those gray skies. "But you have to admit… that was pretty cool" The green eyed boy ended with a grin.

Hermione sighed, though she couldn't keep the small smile off her face. The bushy haired girl's reply was whispered softly.

"Yeah… it kinda was."

* * *

Waking up to rubber spiders charmed with movement spells had been a surprise. Courtesy of Seamus, judging by the way he was rolling around in hysterics. Dean abruptly cutting him off with a well placed pillow to the groin, what ensued was a strangely intense pillow fight between the two boys.

He thought Ron would've joined in, but the red head was almost in tears, fake arachnid on his face. Ignoring there antics, Harry got dressed, haphazardly throwing Dudley's old shirt in his bin. The green eyed boy was excited about Professor Flitwick's class on the levitation charm.

Actual magic performed by a teacher. He didn't count Professor McGonagall's example of the transfiguration spell, that was an extreme example of the art, Harry doubted any first year could turn a chalice into a living bird.

Seeing the headmaster walking around in robes _literally_ made of pumpkin had been an actual shock though. Who knew the old man liked Halloween so much? Walking down the hallway that led to the Dining Hall, Harry saw the specters of Hogwarts floating about.

The ghosts seemed to be in unusually good spirits, even Peeves was jollier than normal. Evident by the multicolored Slytherin's that were making a hasty retreat up the moving staircases. Staying out of the trick-playing ghosts line of sight, which wasn't very hard as the specter was currently chasing two prefects that were foolish enough to "stand against the almighty Peeves", he made it to the Griffyndor table no worse for wear.

The same could not be said for the rest of the house of the brave. Over half of the Griffyndor were covered in some kind of substance, some in soot, others dripping pink slime everywhere, there was even one student who looked like a walking ink stain.

He wondered where the ghost got all of his pranking supplies. Maybe they were conjured? Could ghosts use magic? He'd have to ask about that later.

Books being set down on his right had him smiling.

"Morning Hermione" He greeted her jovially, happy to note, she too was Peeves free. He'd doubt the brunette would find having her books ruined to be as funny as the ghost would.

"G-Goodmorning Harry" She replied barely a stutter, causing his smile to grow. She was getting better.

"How'd you avoid Peeves?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him. She simply smiled at him.

"Library" Came her one word response. Knowing the spirit would never be caught be in "The room where fun goes to die" as he had dramatically called it. Smart. Not like he should be surprised. The witch was always in the library, new research material scattered about everyday. Always tackling a new subject.

"Ah" He said dumbly, not having anything to add. It didn't happen often, but Harry would find himself speechless around the Granger girl. Sometimes he just didn't have anything to say, other times she would do something that left him unable to form words. Like explaining how she ran tests on different objects, casting the levitation charm on them, comparing how they moved to the propulsion based movement of the broom.

Food appearing had him sighing in relief, breakfast had saved him again.

"Honestly Harry-" A dreadfully familiar voice came from behind him. _No_.

"-you didn't think we'd-" _No. No. No. No_. The same voice, the smallest fraction of a pitch deeper. _Not now._

"-leave you out of the festivities!" The twin voices of Fred and George greeted him. Harry ducked immediately under the table, dragging Hermione down with him. She gave a startled yelp in response, but he held her to him. Knowing whatever the twins had up their sleeves would be messy.

And not a second later the whole hall was pandemonium. Trays rocketed food across tables, forcibly starting food fights between the houses. Students being knocked over by some of the larger food items. One poor Hufflepuff third year was literally covered in potatoes, the tenderized spuds making her look like some kind of blob monster.

When a full plate of eggs collided with a Slytherin prefects head, the green eyed boy began to think things were getting out of hand.

It seemed to last only a few minutes. But when food no longer flew and fighting ceased, Harry peeked above the bench.

 _A Massacre_.

That was the only way to describe the Great Hall, food was scattered everywhere. Several students lying among the assorted masses of wasted cuisine. The only place untouched, the heads of house sat, glaring at the Weasely twins.

"Oh, drats brother O' mine" Fred complained slapping his knee. "He caught us. Too quick on the uptake this one is." Fred's grin made Harry want to groan, this wouldn't be the end of it.

"That he is brother, that he is" George agreed, nodding his head with a hand under his chin. "But that's what makes it so much fun! Nothing worth doing is easy, dear brother" Fred's agreeing 'Aye!' Had him wanting to bang his head till it actually hurt.

The twin terrors had been trying to prank him ever since he clearly picked them apart, apparently something not even there mother could do. It had been easy, George's voice was deeper, simple as that. They had taken it as a personal challenge though. Personal because Harry refused to participate in the 'pranking war of 1991'

In an instant the mess was gone, Professor Dumbledore, hand still above his head, called for attention. "I can be assured the pranks are over, yes?" The Headmaster questioned, pumpkin robes glowing gently. They might've been Jack-o-lanterns, Harry realized absentmindedly.

It'd certainly make sense, from a festive standpoint.

"Of course Headmaster" Came the twin chorus. The aged wizard nodded at that, seemingly content with the answer. Taking his seat, the Headmaster snapped his fingers, and just like moments before, a smorgasbord appeared. How had he managed that? Wandless magic? Was that common in the wizarding world? No one seemed to make anything of it, but the possibilities were endless.

A gentle nudge in his side had him looking down. Hermione was pinned under him, elbow digging into his ribs, face a furious red. As graceful as physically possible, he pulled the bushy haired witch up and simultaneously sat her down in the seat next to him.

"A w-w-warning w-would've been n-n-nice, Harry" She picked at her food, refusing to look at him. He frowned, vowing to make the twins pay. The morning was going so well too. "But thanks" Hermione's soft voice murmured.

"Anytime" Smile back on his face, he dug in, enjoying the food, and the company it brought.

* * *

Ronald Weasely hated charms.

Scratch that. Ronald Weasely _really_ hated charms.

Professor Flitwick was mental if he thought how you held a wand would change the spell used. He had seen it plenty of times, Wizards speaking the spell and with a simple point cast it perfectly. No stupid wrist flick, no dumb pronunciations, just good ole magic. Attempting the spell a twenty-third time, only to have nothing happen, he groaned.

Why couldn't quidditch be a class?

At least then it'd be interesting. Who in their right minds would want to float a feather? Not him that was for sure. The faint sound of the know-it-all traveled over the chorus of students practicing the spell, making him want to slam his head on the desk.

"Its leviosa, not leviosa" She explained to Neville, whose face was blackened for some reason. What the hell was she on about? It was the same word, why was she speaking nonsense? What was worse was that Neville, _the_ Neville had actually made the damn feather move! Gritting his teeth he barked out the words… only for nothing to happen a twenty-fourth time.

The damned thing was pointless! There had to be a trick to it, something he didn't know about.

"R-R-Ron w-would you l-like help?" The snobby witch asked him in that stupid stutter. Was she joking? He didn't need help with the stupid spell, glancing at the feather one more time... A hint couldn't hurt.

"Sure" He snapped out, not eager to give her the satisfaction.

"D-Do the spell o-one m-more time so I can ob-observe" Bloody hell, the girl was a freak. But Ron did as told, same results following the dumb words.

"Your pronouncing it w-wrong, i-its leviosa, not leviosa." That stupid crap? It's the same word! She was having him on! Blood rushed to Ron's ears, he'd call her out on it!

"It's leviosa not leviosa!" He mimicked in a hilarious voice. "Blimey, no wonder no one can stand you, your just a lousy know-it-all. Why don't you do us all a favor and shut up!" He finished, proud of himself for putting the snob in her place. She had run off, probably to lecture someone else but Ron's focus was back on the feather. Maybe If he pointed harder? It was worth a shot. Wand in the ready position, he drew it back…

The last thing Ronald Weasely saw was one _very_ pissed off Harry Potter, fist greeting his face suddenly, before his world went black.

* * *

She was normally more composed, having long gotten used to children's harsh taunts. But the way the red head had said those words, like it was common knowledge. The rude boy had been right, that's why the words had injured her so. No one liked her, even in her own house.

Why was the world so cruel to her? What had she done to deserve such mistreatment? Was she so horrible, that no one, save her parents, could tolerate her?

Maybe Hermione didn't belong in any world…

A thudding knock on the door brought her away from that depressing thought.

"G-G-Go a-a-w-way!" The sobbing witch blubbered, the words barely passing for English. Hermione had run to the one place she knew there'd be solace. The abandoned bathroom on the first floor, home of a ghost girl. Where said ghost was right now, she had no inclinations. All that mattered was that she was alone…

"Hermione?" Why was _he_ here? She couldn't face him like this. "Its me, Harry" The disembodied voice added, like the wizarding reject wouldn't know his stormy voice anywhere. He had to go, she didn't think she could handle looking into those green eyes right now.

"I d-d-don't w-w-want you h-here!" Hermione snapped the words out, it had actually her throat a little. "P-P-Please, j-j-just…j-just go a-a-w-way Harry" Her voice was horse, pleading, she didn't have the energy to care.

"All…Alright, I'll see you at dinner OK?" His voice held that same annoying concern as his eyes, like he cared about the girl. She couldn't seem to escape from him. Hermione didn't know if he was waiting for an answer but she refused to respond.

What felt like an eternity passed, sniffles filling the bleak silence, before the brunette heard footsteps move away.

A hiccup escaped her lips, tears burning anew, Hermione started sobbing again. Crying for the girl that everyone seemed to hate.

* * *

Scowling at the food in front of him, almost taunting him with its delectability, Harry found he didn't have much of an appetite.

Classes had not been good to the young wizard. Having very openly argued with the Potions Professor, along with Professor McGonagall. Both issuing him detentions for his attitude, too bad Professor Flitwick had first call. After checking on his brunette friend, ignoring the way his stomach turned slightly at her words, Harry had returned to class. A roused red headed tosser was glaring at him, left eye swelling up rather nicely.

Served the prick right…

Unfortunately, the small Charms Professor had cut in, face an unhealthy shade of cardinal. The height challenged man had actually looked intimidating, demanding why he had acted so 'uncouth'.

Harry wasn't about to repeat the disrespectful words that were uttered. Even thinking about them got his temper flaring.

So seemingly having punched another student without due cause, he was given three nights detention.

A punishment Harry could hardly care about…

Instead his thoughts were leaning towards his bookish friend.

Was she alright? In his first two months at Hogwarts he'd never heard her sound like that. She sounded so hurt. And she had never rejected his company before…

Glancing sidelong at the cause of her pain, the green eyed boy could _feel_ his lip turn up in a sneer. The red headed boy was gorging himself on the feast, though his movements were a tad bit slower than usual.

Taking a steading breath, Harry put down his utensil, finding the object useless to him in his current mood. He had hoped Hermione would have come to dinner, but the bushy haired girl was nowhere to be found.

"...I heard she's still in Moaning Myrtles bathroom, the poor thing"

"I swear Amanda, boys are the _worst_ "

Harry's head snapped around immediately, pinning a fourth year Hufflepuff with his gaze. The bobbed haired blonde girl froze, a look of shock plastered on her face.

"Amanda? …Amanda what's wro-" The girls black haired friend interrupted the unintentional stare down. Her own blue eyes glaring into his green.

Harry sent an apologetic glance towards the girls, it wasn't there fault. Raking a hand through ebony locks, the wild haired boy sighed and made to stand, he'd head back to the bathroom and make sure Hermione was okay. Otherwise he might do something that'd get him into even more trouble.

"Everyone!...Everyone!" A voice could be heard over the feast, coming from a doorway.

Professor Quirrell ran into the Great Hall, head bloody, his face twisted up in true panic. The Dining Hall was silent, all eyes including Harry's were on the squirrelly Defense Professor. The man's black eyes were wide and watery, and he tittered back and forth.

Harry felt a weight form in his stomach…

"Troll in the dungeon…" He muttered the phrase before keeling over face first onto the floor.

Silence reigned for one whole minute, nobody dared breath, and like a fragile window, the silence was shattered by one first year Ravenclaw's scream. Chaos ensued, students rushing to escape.

Harry faintly heard the Headmaster order the prefects to lead students back to there dorms, but he was already out of the Hall.

The young wizard ran as fast as he could in his oversized shoes. _I really need to buy some new clothes_. Shaking the unimportant thought from his mind, Harry took a sharp right, hopping on the moving staircase in mid transition. He needed to get to Hermione, no one knew she was in there, no help was coming for the brunette.

Leaping off the staircase the moment it stopped, the green eyed boy tried to remember exactly where the bathroom was. _Was it on the left or was it straight ahead?_ He didn't have time to get lost, the Granger girl was in danger.

"Oh my, you've made it just in time." The telltale echo of a ghosts voice crawled through the air. "That poor girls in serious danger, there's a troll in the school you know."

Looking around frantically, Harry tried to spot the source of the voice to no avail. He heard a giggle, and his waning control of his temper snapped.

"Where is she?" He growled out in a voice that sounded foreign to him.

"No need to get testy." The disembodied voice muttered. " Take two lefts, then a right and you should be there. The giant troll is kind of a give away." She finished, breaking out into a giggling fit.

Not paying the ghosts strange behavior any mind, Harry was off down the corridor. "Thank you!" He shouted back in the voices general direction.

 _Hermione, please be_ okay…

* * *

Unseen to the green eyed boy, Myrtle phased out of the wall.

"What a strange boy" She whispered. And she meant it too, in her forty plus years of ghosting, no one had ever thanked her for something. Everyone always got what they wanted and left, eager to get away from ugly Ol' Moaning Myrtle. But not that bespectacled boy, he was… grateful.

Floating down the corridor, a small smile planted on her face, Myrtle wished the boy luck. Judging by the size of the beast, he'd need it. And if the worst happened… well… then she'd have a new friend.

* * *

"Are all the students accounted for, Mister Norwood?" Minerva questioned, her Head Boy stood there, shuffling nervously.

"Er… Professor, w-we seem to be m-missing three first years." Her Head Prefect squeaked out. A small throbbing began at the base of her neck, a ghost of the headaches she once had constantly. Courtesy of four troublemaking boys who thought the rules were something to toy with.

"Whom are we missing?" The transfiguration Professor questioned, her tone clipped.

"Um… Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and a Ronald Weasely… Professor I'm so sorry, I swear I did my best." Her Head Boy was going into hysterics. That small throb had grown quite large, she did not want to experience one of her legendary migraines right now.

Mister Norwood was quickly silenced by a slim hand cuffing him gently.

"Calm down Jamie, your gonna pass out again at this rate." The cat animagus was thankful to her Head Girl, the throbbing had subsided slightly, maybe she had a chance of getting through this without hitting the good stuff tonight.

"Heather?... I only passed out one time! And besides students are missing, _first_ years at that, how do you expect me to stay calm?" The boy was quickly getting worked up again. Perhaps she should've picked someone else to lead her Prefects…

"Relax! The troll's in the dungeon remember?" The strawberry blonde girl snapped, hands on hips. "There's no way they could've gotten past all the Professors and I distinctly remember that Weasely smashing food into his mouth like it was his last meal. So Jamie, RELAX!" Miss Lowery finished, face flushed and breathe heavy.

Minerva raised her brow in surprise, that was certainly… unexpected. And she wasn't the only one who thought so, judging by how the boy stood there gaping like a fish.

Her Head Prefect sighed, seemingly having calmed down, the boy swept his long brown hair back.

"Your right Heather, sorry about that. We have to think about this calmly." His reply was cool and calculated, and Minerva caught a glimpse of the boy she trusted to watch over her lions.

Just then the Headmaster strode in the common room, Severus hot on his heels. And one look at her Bosses aged face had the throbbing come back full force.

"The troll was not in the dungeons." Albus regretfully stated, face screwed up in a grimace. "It would seem we were a tad too slow." He added quietly, eyes drifting across the students.

"Yes, it would _seem_ that way." Severus added, more to himself than anything.

"Hmmm, Minerva?"

"Yes Albus?"

"I don't seem to see young Mister Potter anywhere…" Albus's voice flickered with a hint of worry. Eyes darting back and forth over half-moon spectacles, as if the boy was hiding from him.

"It would seem he, Miss Granger, and young Mister Weasely are missing." She answered, ignoring the Potions Professor's mutter of 'Potter'.

"I… see, that is… most unfortunate" The wizarding legend looked slightly pale, mouth forming a small frown.

A dull boom sounded throughout the castle, and Minerva… she was out the door in an instant, migraine in full force. It looked like another Potter was going to be the death of her already.

* * *

A scream sounded from the right, _Hermione's scream_. Turning the corner, Harry was met with a crater of a hole in the bathroom wall. Disgusting grey skin entered his vision, looking permanently moist.

"Hermione!? Hermione!" He called to his friend, refusing to acknowledge the rancid taste of the air. The comically small head of the troll locked onto the green eyed boy, but he didn't care, _where was she_.

"H-H-Harry" Movement under the collapsed stalls caught his eye. The bushy haired girl was pinned under the rubble, bleeding slightly above her brow.

"Hermione!" He took a step forward… only to leap back as the ignored monster decided to make himself known with a loud slam of his club. The green eyed boy glared at the beast, willing it to disappear.

It was for not though, as the troll simply reared its meaty arm back. Bringing it forward in a wide arc, the large wooden death stick brushed the tips of his hair, his head snapping back on instinct.

Hugging the floor, Harry rolled to his left, barely being missed by the horrible smelling beast's overhead swing, his teeth rattling from the impact. How was he going to get past that? The troll was easily fifth-teen feet tall, the young wizard barely came up to its knee, there was no way he could beat tha-

A whimper… so tiny and muffled, he almost didn't hear it, floated through the air. But he _did_ hear it, and he saw Hermione's head poking out of the debris. She had her eyes closed, tears leaking out from under the shut lids. Something inside him twisted painfully, something… cracked open. Butterfly's danced across his skin, making him feel weightless for a moment.

Mouth set in grim determination, Harry pointed his wand at the troll, it's beady black eyes narrowing on him.

He'd save Hermione, there wasn't another option…

The beast roared, shaking the chandeliers above them. Tightening his grip, Harry whipped his wand back, attempting the levitation charm. His focus was on the rubble covering the brunette. He could do this, he could get Hermione out and they could get away.

Slowly… he willed his magic to save her.

The green eyed boy had just gotten the largest debris off her when the troll, seemingly bored with its pointless hollering, swung again. Harry had barely avoided the club, his robes catching on the instruments leading edge. Gritting his teeth as the stench of rotting garbage hit him full in the nose, the wild haired boy found himself face to face with the tiny head of the monster.

"Harry! Hermio- Oh bloody hell!" Ron Weasely had rounded the corner. Why was he here? Despite the compromising position he was in, Harry smiled.

This was his chance...

"Ron! Get Hermione out of here!" He shouted louder than he ever had before, copper tickling the back of his tongue.

"W-What about you?" Despite his stutter, the red head inched towards the stalls, wand at the ready.

"I'll be the distraction" And with that he kicked off the club. Deftly grabbing one of the grey monstrosities tiny ears, he wrapped around the trolls fat neck.

"Blimey!" He heard the red head shout. Squeezing as hard as he could, Harry growled.

"Stop gawking and help her!" The words were barked and Harry could definitely taste blood in his mouth.

"R-Right, sorry" Ron made his way over to the prone form of his friend. From his high position upon the troll Harry could clearly see the Granger girl. She had gone silent, hazel eyes staring right at him, fear filled. The green eyed boy swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

It was okay… They'd be okay… He could han-

A viscous jerk upwards brought his attention back to the magical creature currently doing its best to shake him off.

Harry locked his arms around the beasts neck, squeezing as hard as he could, the wild haired boy hoped he could choke the damned thing. But when the troll smacked one of its fat hands right next to him, Harry knew it wouldn't work. Grabbing the creatures ears, the young wizard pulled backwards, leading it away from the red head.

A shriek sounded from the monster, it's flailing growing more intense. He pulled harder, desperately trying to move the behemoth. The green eyed boy could see them. The red head had almost freed her, using the levitation charm to move a majority of the obstacles.

The troll swung upwards, it's club destroying three of the lighting fixtures, bathing the bathroom in flames. He heard Hermione scream, her voice cutting right through the monsters howls. Ron Weasely was on the ground, unconscious. Judging by the rather large knot forming on the boy's head, Harry could assume the falling chandeliers were to blame.

His vision went black…

He couldn't breath. The troll's hand was on him, engulfing his head completely in its giant hand. The green eyed boy barely had a chance to register being picked off the monster, before Harry met the ground with a sickening crack.

Dim lights… all a burning orange, surrounded him. He was vaguely aware of the spreading fire, noticing how the flames licked there way across the stone floor.

That wasn't right… stone shouldn't be flammable.

"…ry!" A distant noise entered his ears. He tried to respond to the sound… But when the green eyed boy tried to talk, his breath hitched and blood erupted from his mouth

"…arry!" It was a voice! A voice that seemed really familiar… He wanted to speak. He was wanted to let the voice know he was fine. But his throat wasn't cooperating, vocal cords constricting awkwardly made it impossible to form words.

"Harry!" And like snapping a piece back in, the world suddenly became whole again. Hermione was screaming his name, the brunette was shaking… she looked so scared. Her legs were still pinned, she couldn't get away.

She couldn't escape…

Taking a shallow shaky breath, Harry gripped his wand like it was a lifeline

Because really, it was...

The beast took a menacing step forward, ignoring the flames quickly engulfing the room. Harry rose to his feet, barely staying upright. His chest hurt… like, actually hurt. Staring into the troll's face, the green eyed boy saw it grin, as if pleased with its work. He growled, liquid bubbling in the back of his throat. Harry wanted to hurt it… he wanted to hurt the monster that injured his friend.

And a small voice in the back of his head hissed for vengeance…

Harry brought his arm up, wand in an iron grip, before swinging it down viscously. Greenish black blood erupted from the creature, courtesy of the large diagonal wound appearing on its torso. A high pitched shriek came from the monster, and the green eyed boy felt vindicated. The troll's blood showered them, putting out the rogue flames dancing their way towards the immobile girl. Harry wobbled, his body felt like lead, he was so tired.

But it wasn't over yet… the beast was still moving. Sluggish steps were being made towards him, the monsters grey skin was ashen, almost ghostly. The troll was on deaths door… but it wasn't quite through the doorway yet.

"H-Harry!" Hermione called his name urgently. "Y-Y-You have t-to r-r-run!" The brunette was pleading with him, trying to get him to abandon her. How could she say that? Like the green eyed boy could just up and leave her.

Harry wouldn't move an inch… even if his legs _were_ working.

The troll was directly in front of him now, it's beady black eyes glazed over, not entirely there. Large club loosely held in it hand, the monster was lifting it slowly, almost teasingly, above the wild haired boy.

Harry had his wand up, trying his hardest to produce the earlier attack. It wasn't working… he couldn't even feel his magic right now. Why! Why couldn't he do it? The green eyed boy was so close… it was almost over.

The menacing object came down, the behemoth letting out a joyous roar, as if it knew of its impending victory.

"HARRY!" Hermione… she was still here, what was she going to do? Hopefully a Professor would make it in time to save her. If Harry could only do that… if he could save his friend… then he could die without regrets.

The young wizard closed his eyes. And from the bottom of his heart, he felt no fear… it was an oddly calming sensation that enveloped him. Like a cool blanket wrapping around him.

Maybe dying wouldn't be so bad…

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

He heard the spell… heard his friends voice, so strong and full of power. And he heard her scream in pain. Hermione had never sounded like that before…

An incredible weight settled on his hands, lasting only for a moment. The ground gave him a second greeting as Harry was forced into broken stone. His already hurting chest bloomed with a pain the green eyed boy had never felt before, tiny rods of burning lead digging into his lungs. Gurgling erupted from his mouth and Harry couldn't do anything to stop it.

A birds call sounded, a mystical cry of anguish, it resonated within him on a level he couldn't describe. Part of… _him_ was gone, whatever made Harry… Harry…an essential part of that was gone. The wild haired boy wanted to cry out too, to match that bird's call with one of his own. To let it know it wasn't alone…

But he couldn't… not yet… he had a fight to finish.

Harry could feel it, the mysterious call… it was giving him strength, fueling him, telling him to get up. The green eyed boy could feel the heat, a magic so warm, it tittered on burning, encompassed him. The pain faded, his ribs no longer stabbing into his lungs, and Harry jumped to his feet, a renewed strength to his movements. His body felt so light… he could win now… he _would_ win now.

Grabbing a piece of wood, the wild haired boy jumped, higher in the air than he ever had before. Harry's legs soared over the beast, beady black eyes lazily following him. He brought the wooden stake down, sharp tip aimed at the top of the troll's head.

It penetrated, the makeshift weapon going halfway into the behemoth's skull, a satisfying squelch greeted his ears. A geyser of blood rushed out, coating the green eyed boy in the life giving fluid. The beast let out one final pained roar, panic seeping into its voice.

It was music to Harry's ears. With a final twist, he pulled the weapon out, the beast went quiet, all signs of life leaving it's vacant gray face. A stench so familiar… so horribly familiar wafted up from the beast… it made Harry miss the rotting smell of garbage. Death permeated the room, the sick smell let the young wizard know for sure.

He had done it… he had beaten the troll.

His victory was short lived however, as the trolls body swayed, like an unsteady tree. Gravity was quickly winning a war of physics, as the behemoth, without support from a conscious, started to collapse. The monsters carcass fell backwards, the wild haired boy tumbled off in the opposite direction, towards his friend.

Harry met the ground hard, his glasses finally snapping from the repeated abuse. Broken glass fell away from his face as he made to stand, Hermione still needed help, she was still pinned. The brunette was silent, her olive skin pale. She was shaking, wide hazel eyes staring at him in something akin to horror. Why? He had won, they were safe. So why? Why did Hermione look so afraid?

The green eyed boy took a step towards her… then… the warmth was gone. And like a puppet with its strings cut, Harry fell to his knees, absolutely no strength remaining in his body. He could barely lift a finger now if he wanted too…

"H-H-Harry" Hermione croaked.

The green eyed boy couldn't lift his head to look at her, the very thought exhausting him. He wanted to see her… to see she was OK.

A slow ache started to pulse… it was everywhere. From the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Starting as barely a tremor, before growing into a quake that rattled his bones. His previously forgotten ribs made themselves known by stabbing painfully into his lungs. The wild haired boy was suddenly aware of the burning piece of wood still held in his hand. Harry let out a weak gurgle, airway no longer working properly.

He was dying… that was all this pain could mean…

The green eyed boy's body didn't move, but he could feel his muscles convulsing wildly, protesting every strained breath.

"Harry!" The brunette shrieked, much to his confusion, what else was there? Her hurried breathing and the sound of rubble shifting made its way to his ears, and Harry desperately wanted to look in her direction. The burning object was kicked out of his hands. Making the green eyed boy want to simultaneously cry out in relief and pain. Bushy brown hair entered his vision, the thick follicles igniting small flashes of pain where they touched him.

How had she gotten out?

Blood covered fingers were in his line of sight. _Hermione's_ fingers… she had clawed her way out… but why? It was over, the green eyed boy had won, they were safe. So why did she hurt herself? The brunette must've realized help would be coming, she was too smart not to know… and yet… the bushy haired girl had done that…

"H-Harry… your hands!" She was sobbing again. What about his hands? He couldn't see them from this angle… he couldn't feel them either…

"Albus! Albus! I've found them!" Professor McGonagall's voice boomed against the quiet room, accent thickest he'd ever heard. The corners of his vision darkened, shadows licking at his senses. He was so tired… just a little sleep would be okay, right?

Harry was sure he had earned that much.

Eye lids drooping, the last thing the wild haired boy saw was Hermione's face, inches from his own, before the darkness claimed him.


End file.
